


hunted

by shepherd



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Haunted Houses, M/M, a bit of implied animal abuse, a bit of implied violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-28 14:39:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/993081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shepherd/pseuds/shepherd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>based off this prompt- Gavin works at a haunted house and totally does not scare the ever loving shit out of Michael (but at least he offers to make up for it with dinner after tracking the cute, angry guy down during his break).</p>
            </blockquote>





	hunted

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t think we have these haunted house things in the UK, but I went to the London Dungeons once when I was a little girl, and someone scared me the exact same way Gavin will scare Michael. I’ve never known terror quite like it since.

The woods were still and silent, and it seemed to be impossibly dark. Wherever Michael turned his head, the forest floor was bathed in deep, almost endless shadow. The ash trees around him stood intimidatingly tall, and one of the only minor sources of light were the moonbeams that streamed through the gaps in their leaves. The others were faint twinkling artificial lights, far into the distance, deeper into the crushing darkness of the woods. The only sound was the faint wind, a whisper more than a howl, and it made the leaves rustle rather ominously.

Lindsay clung to Michael’s arm, her fingers clawing into the thankfully thick fabric of his hoodie. Her breaths were unsteady in his ear, and her eyes were wide. “I fucking hate this.” She announced in a stage whisper. “This is the worst idea we’ve ever had.”

Michael barked out a mocking laugh, and it echoed for an uncomfortably long time through the seemingly empty and endless woods. But both of them knew better. She winced at the volume, and her grip only tightened on him. “This is the worst idea you’ve ever had.” He corrected. “You’re the one who wanted to do this. The day before Halloween and all.”

“Never again.” She vowed. “Never.” She eyed the lights in the distance, dancing and gleaming like will-o’-the-wisps. Michael wondered if they were just as deadly. “Are we going there?”

“Well, the people who run this thing told me that the building place- Penrose Hall, or whatever shitty name they gave it- is in the middle of this forest. About two miles in, so about a half hour journey at a casual walk.” He quirked a roguish grin at her. “Considering you ran and hauled me most of the way with a zombie guy hot on our heels, I’d say we’re almost there.”

“Considering the actors are allowed to touch us on this show, damn right I was running.“ She shivered in the cold of the night as the wind kept blowing. She pulled her jacket closer. “God.” She whined, her voice mournful. “Do we have to go?”

“We don’t have to.” He told her, shrugging his shoulders. “But considering I had to pay for this shit, I’ll be pretty pissed if you pussy out.”

Before she could retort, there was a sudden crack- something that sounded suspiciously like a branch exploding underneath a heavy boot. Lindsay sucked in a breath and pivoted on one foot, rounding on the direction the sound came from. Michael turned his head casually, a questioning expression on his face while hers held an expression of sheer panic. A bush lie there, quite innocently. There wasn’t a ghost, a vampire, a zombie, or half the terrible things there could have been. They waited for a few long beats, mentally preparing themselves for their scare of their lives- but nothing happened. Silence fell, and it stayed.

Lindsay was struggling for words, broken fragments of useless sentences spilling out of her mouth. “This is indescribable.” She eventually hissed. “I’m never doing this again.” She rounded on him, her eyes accusing. “You’re not even the slightest bit scared, are you?”

He couldn’t lie. “No, not really.” He sniffed and shivered as the wind picked up, chilling his skin. He was just happy it wasn’t raining. It had been, heavily for the past few days but thankfully it had cleared up for that night. He had to contend with thick, squelching mud and deep and dirty puddles, which made it a nightmare to run, but he was satisfied with the fact it wasn’t raining. “It’s pretty much the same old shit.”

Lindsay stared at him, clearly trying to read his expression and pick every emotion she found apart. She was hunting for a lie. “Not even when we saw those fake bodies strung up in the trees?”

“Considering the guy from earlier told us this place was called Sevenoaks because of the witches that got strung up on the seven oak trees, I kind of expected to see bodies up there.” He snorted. “They weren’t even oak trees. Bullshit.”

She tried again. A lot had happened to them during the last half an hour, and she wasn’t going to run out of ammo anytime soon. “Not even when we heard that random screaming when we accidentally wandered off the path?”

“No.”

“Not even when-” She abruptly made a disgusted, infuriated sound in the back of her throat and made a flailing ‘I give up’ gesture. “I’m not even going to bother. You’re a fearless son of a bitch, Michael Jones.”

Pleasantly surprised by her silence, he hummed in interest, and let her retake hold of his arm. He wondered if he would have any feeling in it by the end of the night, but he supposed he would rather have a numb arm than a stony faced, sulking Lindsay. Going to the so called ‘haunted house’ attraction to not feel scared at all was already a waste of time, so he didn’t want to have his best friend mad at him on top of it all.

He just wasn’t easily scared. He had never really felt scared in his life- nervous, yes, on edge, sure, but he had never felt that hollow sensation of true fear. The kind that made every muscle in your body lock up and stop working, making you rigid with horror, or the one that makes you feel breathless and taut with terror. Horror films never really made him jump or scream, not even the ones that made most sob with fear and hide their faces into pillows. The kind that, according to Lindsay, normal people felt.  
So, really, this was a massive waste of his time and money.

They walked, almost arm in arm in silence for a few long minutes. The ground underneath squelched as they walked, and their shoes were both flecked with mud and muck. Neither cared very much, focusing mainly on the quiet that surrounded them and the lights before them. They gradually grew closer, and Michael could feel his companion tense as the path began to grow thicker, indicating that they were soon coming to an opening. He reached down and took hold of her hand, swiping his thumb over the skin of her knuckles reassuringly. “Mogar’ll protect you.” He told her, solemnly, and he faked a wounded expression when she snorted with laughter. “That was mean.”

He went ignored, and she just tugged at his hand, her steps coming faster. Michael almost lost his balance as he was dragged forward. “Come on, let’s just get this thing over with.”

He matched her speed, and they quickly burst through the clearing together. They immediately saw the building, Penrose Hall awaiting, sitting imposingly in the middle of a huge field. The grass had not been cared for. It was like a mini jungle, overgrown and wild, probably teeming with creatures. The occasional bright flower peeked out through the greenery, but he assumed that most died from an absence of sunlight. Around the field, there were several oak trees nearby, and if Michael squinted he could see more fake bodies hanging limply from a rope on each tree. Admittedly, the sight unnerved him- but he didn’t want to admit that to Lindsay.

She was preoccupied with the house, already beginning to wade through the grass that reached up to brush her knees. She stared up at it, and immediately the giggles started overflowing. “How many families do you think have met their tragic end in there?” She asked, and Michael’s laughter joined hers. He followed her, praying he wouldn’t stand on something slimy and squishy and alive.

The house was clearly very old, but Michael had no way of guessing just how old it was. It was kept in decent condition- it was still mostly in one piece, but some of the walls had gradually worn away over time, possibly due to poor weather or simple vandalism. It was huge, too, an intimidating and solid mass in the darkness. The building was almost painfully stereotypical of gothic architecture and the kind of stuff you saw in horror films- it had tall, narrow windows, and at each corner of the roof gargoyles sat perched, glowering silently down at the woodland below. The door was much taller than both of them, a great heavy thing made from dark wood. “This thing’s gonna creak like a mother fucker.”

They test it, and it does, a long and tortured noise, not unlike a dying cat. They step inside, and Lindsay lets it slam shut behind them with a bang that makes them both jump. A few candles that once flickered near the door are snuffed out in a second.

The hall was beautiful, although still dark. The only light sources were candles dotted here and there, either placed in tiny pillars dotted among the oak tables that had been inexplicably pushed up against the walls, held up by candlesticks or in little lanterns attached to the wall. They emitted a gently flickering golden light, and it made the hardwood floor gleam and shine. There were little alcoves along the walls that were completely unlit, and while Michael may have been fearless he wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t going anywhere near those. The contrast between light and dark admittedly gave the room a kind of heady mystique- but Lindsay huffed and tapped her booted feet against the floor, a disappointed tinge to her expression.

“This floor’s way too modern.” She complained. “The atmosphere’s kind of ruined now.”

“I love it when you naysay with me.” Michael grinned. “Do it again.”

She shoved at him, and he almost lost his balance, the mud on his feet making him slip. They both snorted with laughter, despite the unspoken dread building in the both of them. They both entered the hall, taking in their surroundings. The hall was long and wide, and ended in thick, navy blue curtains which had clearly been dulled with age. The footfalls were heavy on the wooden floor, and the noise echoed a little. The room was chilly, and Michael broke away from Lindsay to touch the stone walls. Against the heat of his palm, the wall was freezing.

“Oh, well, that’s fun.” Lindsay said, her voice as dry as sandpaper as she stared at something out of his eyesight. He moved to stand next to her- and saw blood, slick and still wet smeared across the floor. For a second, he had no idea where it had come from- then a drop of red dropped from the ceiling, causing a ripple in the puddle. Michael looked up- and immediately dropped his gaze.

“That’s fucking gross.” He pulled a face, no longer wanting to look at the half skinned rabbit that had been tied up and left to hang by it’s hind legs. “I’d rather see a dead human being.” 

Lindsay hummed her agreement, but moved on nonetheless. Seemingly at ease now, she wandered further up to the end of the hall, but cleverly avoided the darkened alcoves. Both kept a close eye on the shadows as they explored. “Don’t go too far.” He called after her in warning, and she turned and served him a bored, disinterested look.  
“Please. I’m a strong independent woman who don’t need no Mogar.”

“We ride together, we die together.” He called after her when she walked away, a confident swing to her steps, and the only response he heard was a light chuckle. He broke apart from her, instead staying around the middle of the hall, keeping his eye out for any nasty decorations or surprises. He found what looked like bloody human finger nails littered across the floor- he winced at the thought- but found nothing else.

He finished with the room quickly and went to move on, but he could see no exit or doorway to another room. Lindsay, who had rejoined him and knelt halfway up the room, had her attentions caught by what seemed to be the broken remains of a bear trap on the floor. Michael wondered, blindly and uselessly for a long moment, feeling rather like he was stuck in a video game and having no idea what he was meant to do. Eventually, he found himself gravitating towards the curtains at the end of the hall.

They were heavy laden with thick dust, and they looked like they hadn’t been moved in years. Judging by that, Michael could safely assume that there wasn’t anyone hiding behind them- but he wasn’t taking any chances. He carefully took hold an edge of the curtain, delicately pinching a small piece of fabric between a thumb and forefinger, slowly- and then flung it open almost violently, in hopes of throwing off any haunted house worker who lurked behind.

There was no one there. There was no alcove behind the curtain. Instead, it served to divide two rooms- and that one was a little more interesting. 

It looked like a common room, and it was much more welcoming than anything else Michael had seen since he entered the woods. It was brighter, too- at one end of the room there was a genuine fire in the fireplace. It emitted a much appreciated warmth in the cool building, and Michael drew closer, keeping a close eye on his surroundings as he did. He let the curtain drop closed behind him. He let the fire heat him up as he took in the room around him.

The most obvious centrepieces in the room were the wax statues, kept far across the other side of the room from the fire. They were all dressed somewhat similarly, in rather old fashioned Victorian style suits. Michael liked a man in a suit, but they were just eerie. He stared at them, and a shiver crawled up his spine. He knew they were just placed there to spook him, and they wouldn’t do them any harm- but Jesus, it was a serious case of uncanny valley. He quickly turned his head away, and considered calling Lindsay into the room for company, but he knew she’d see through him in a second and never let him hear the end of it. Instead, he stepped over to a tall bookshelf and gazed at them, taking in the layer of dust and the older, somewhat abused leather-bound books nearer the top.

He wondered for a split second whether or not he should pull the books out, see if there was some kind of hidden area, but he quickly dismissed that idea as completely fucking ridiculous. There was a doorway across the room, nearer the statues, that had no door. It was a simple archway, and Michael had immediately noted the scratches and splotches of red amongst the yellow stone- like someone had clawed at it desperately until they bled. As soon as he was done, he would wait for Lindsay and leave. The show had gone on for long enough- almost an hour, he saw once he checked his watch- and the end was likely approaching.

He spent a few minutes exploring, always keeping within a few steps of the fireplace. He looked at the books, even flicked through a few, and toed at the carpet that had been spread across the floor. He even gazed at some of the candle sticks, wondering if they lead to some kind of secret room.

He was still eyeing them, wondering if he would make a massive fool of himself if he checked when he heard Lindsay call out to him.

“Is that a fucking trap door?” He heard her suddenly burst in the other room, sounding a mixture of delighted and bewildered, and he swivelled his head, a retort already on his lips.

He turned, and a pair of strong hands clamped down like a vice on his shoulders, and two disconcertingly intense and vibrant eyes stared down at him, wide and standing out against deathly pale skin.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Michael screamed. He reeled backwards, fighting to struggle free of the grasp. It didn’t work. Fear was like an adrenaline shot, but it was ice in his veins. His heart, suddenly kicked into overdrive, thundered against his ribcage. “Fuck!”

Terror clenched his guts. Horror made him physically ill. The man’s- one of the wax figures, he manages to recognise- skin was cast in shadows from the fireplace, and he looked gaunt, the lines of his jaw and cheekbones standing out against the skin. The eyes that were oddly beautiful but undeniably horrifying. The dark hair coated with dust and what seemed to be cobwebs. Michael fought back a shriek. His nose was suddenly overwhelmed with the scent of rot and musk and mould. And the man growled, honest to God growled, a guttural and low sound that seemed to ripple through his chest and tear through his throat. It was terrifying, and Michael had no idea what the hell was going on. “Lindsay!” He cried out, and he squirmed again. This time, he was more successful- or perhaps his captor was more merciful. He ripped himself free, and without a second   
thought, he turned and fled. He stumbled for the curtain, the mud almost making him crash to the floor again. He burst through it, and almost fell straight into Lindsay’s arms.

“Michael?” Her voice was high with panic, and she grabbed for him, pulling him away from the curtain out of instinct. “Michael, what-”

“There was a guy!” He exploded. He felt like there was a wraithlike hand closing around his heart, his throat, his brain. His chest heaved and his heart danced on. It was beating so fast he feared it might put out. “A fucking guy grabbed me!”

Lindsay stared at him, her eyes so wide they risked falling from their sockets. She gaped at him for several long moments before demanding “Were you scared?” 

Michael gazed straight back, nonplussed. “No shit, Linds!”

Her pale face crumbled, like a piece of chalk being crushed. She groaned. “Damnit, your first proper scare and I damn well miss it.” She shook her head, as if scolding herself. “At least I got to hear it.” She beamed up at him, and pinched his cheek playfully. “I’m proud of you.” She giggled, but then took his hands in both of hers, clutching them in a motherly fashion. “Are you alright?”

He eyed her like she had gone insane. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she had. “Are you kidding? No, I’m not alright!” He gestured back at the curtain, which hadn’t twitched since he barrelled through it. No sound had some from the other room either. But he was just glad he wasn’t followed. “That was single-handedly the most terrifying experience in my life!” He turned back to the curtain, pulling his hands free again. “Who the fuck was that asshole?”

“Was he covered in zombie make up?” Lindsay took a step closer, dithering a little, clearly wondering if going inside was a good idea. Michael shook his head wildly.

“Nah, fucker disguised himself as a wax figure.” I’m never trusting a statue again, Jesus. “Fucking snarled at me too, like some fucking wild animal.”

Lindsay gingerly gripped the edge of the curtain, and just like he did, ripped the curtain aside. Both of them flinched, ready for him to lunge out at them, but nothing happened. And Michael should have seen it coming.

The man was gone.

He hadn’t returned to the line up of statues that seemed so much more frightening now. Michael eyed them cautiously, watching to see if they blinked or waiting to see if their chests shifted with breath. None of them did, but the feeling of unease was not comforted. He entered the room, hesitantly checking behind the sofas and under tables. The man was nowhere to be seen.

The only sign that someone had ever been there was the lingering stench of mould, and both their noses wrinkled. “I changed my mind.” She breathed. “I’m very glad I wasn’t there to see it.” They stood in silence, hyperaware of the statues across the room, before Lindsay place her hands on her hips and sighed. “Do you think that door over there’s the exit?”

“Jesus, I hope so.” Michael exclaimed.

The two moaned in despair and perfect unison when it wasn’t.

x-x-x-x-x

As they staggered out of the backdoor of Penrose Hall, there was a kind of twisted role reversal. Lindsay was in peals of laughter, her face flushed with exertion and giggles, her eyes shinning bright. In turn, Michael felt like hell. He felt clammy and exhausted, and he didn’t think he had enough energy to feel scared anymore. He clung to her hand, his grip tight.

“I’m never fucking doing this again.” His voice was decisive, and Lindsay’s laughter only increased in volume. “This was a fucking nightmare.”

“Well, at least you’ve felt true fear now like the rest of us mere fools.” She said teasingly, and he rolled his eyes.

He had seen the man again several times as they made their way through the last few rooms. He saw his elongated shadow in the kitchen, emerging from the doorway. He had heard his rumbling growl in one of the master bedrooms, and caught a flash of his reflection in a mirror in the adjacent bathroom. Each time, he jolted, and swore and cursed and threatened him in quick succession. He wasn’t sure if his words even made any sense- but the stranger kept away, never touching him again, and Michael was overwhelmingly and profoundly grateful for that. He had felt dread all the way through, crushed under the palpable apprehension building in the air, and he wanted nothing more than to leave.

Lindsay had seen him once too. She had stepped out on one of the balconies, intent on seeing the view of the woods from so high up- and she turned her head, and he stood silently on the next balcony along, staring at her. She told Michael that he was staring at her intently with these almost glowing green eyes, a wide and horrifying grin on his face. His teeth were slick with blood. She also described him as ‘kind of attractive if you looked past everything that made you piss yourself in terror’.

Despite that, she had still immediately shrieked and fled, just like Michael had. She ran straight to him, and although she had recovered and was laughing by the time she reached him, she demanded to leave, and Michael was more than willing to comply.

Outside the house, it was silent, and the field appeared to be completely deserted. There was a sign, carefully tacked onto a nearby wooden post that read in large, all capital letters ‘EXIT- THAT WAY’ with an arrow. Michael swallowed a sigh of relief.

They followed the sign, still nervously watching the shadows for signs of life, re-entering the woods. They eventually came across a large building, with no other way to go- the rest of the woods were cut off with a large chain link fence, topped with barbed wire. A tall blonde woman wearing the horror show’s designated uniform stood outside, and she didn’t even attempt to hide her smug smirk as the two staggered past her on unsteady legs. She reminded Michael of the ride operator at theme parks- spending most of their day getting some sick satisfaction from watching customers wail and throw up, destroyed by their own hubris. He glowered at her as he passed, but she only snorted, her silvery laughter joining Lindsay’s.

They pulled the door open, stepping inside the building and finding a young man standing at a desk, looking bored out of his mind and about ready to fall asleep on the desk. He unwillingly sat up as they entered, eyeing them with interest. 

He at least had the good grace to try and downplay his amused smile when he took in their flushed faces and the way they quivered slightly. He cleared his throat before speaking. “How was it?” He asked, conversationally.

Michael gave him the darkest, fiercest glare he could muster, and Lindsay hummed noncommittally. “It was okay.” Her voice wavered as she fought the urge to break down into laughter, again, and they guy at the desk chuckled. “You could say there were a fair few surprises on the way.”

“Hey.” A woman’s voice suddenly rang out, clear and calm, and the two turned back. The blonde from before had poked her head into the building, that sly smile still on her lips. She arched a golden brow at them. “Someone wants to talk to you two.” She paused, frowning suddenly as if focusing on a voice only she could hear, and then corrected herself. “Well, someone wants to talk to you. The guy.” Without waiting for an answer, she disappeared again. Michael and Lindsay exchanged a glance, both as perplexed as the other.  
“You should go.” The man at the desk said, a small quirk on his lips. “She gets a bit pissy if no one listens to her.”

Michael jerked his head to the door, and getting the message, Lindsay followed. They step back out into the woods, squelching on the muddy floor once again. The warmth of the little building that they hadn’t fully appreciated before was cruelly stolen from them, and they shiver.

The woman leant against the building next to the door, and she wordlessly points over the darkened trees circling the building.

A man stepped out of the darkness, seemingly melting out of the shadow. Michael tensed up again, quickly grabbing blindly for whatever part of Lindsay was closest. His hand closed like a vice around her wrist. She made no complaint, her eyes locked on the stranger.

It was him, the pretend statue again, but this time he didn’t look nearly as terrifying and he had a tenfold increase in attraction. He was tall, a good inch or two clear of Michael, and he possessed a kind of slender strength. His body was long and skinny- twig like, really- but he seemed to be built with lean muscle. He still wore the suit, but he had shed the overcoat. He wore a tightly fitted waistcoat, which showed off an almost girlish waistline, and Michael felt his mouth go dry with something other than fear.

The man beamed at him, a little obnoxiously and too brightly for his liking. His face had been wiped clear of what Michael thought in retrospect was probably heavy stage makeup- the pale, corpselike skin was gone, and the man in fact had soft looking, sun kissed skin. “Hello.” He greeted, and Michael was relieved to note that his voice wasn’t as twisted as his growls made it out to be. It was clear and smooth, fairly deep with some unrecognisable accent. 

“Hi.” Michael replied, somewhat lamely, and automatically cursed himself. He felt the embarrassed flush burn at his cheeks.

The man’s lips twitched, and he laughed, and it was twice as obnoxious as his smile. Something, possibly glee, danced in his eyes and pulled at the corners of his mouth. “I’m Gavin.” He drawled lazily, and Michael immediately placed the accent. British. “I, uh,” For the first time of the night, the actor began to falter. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Not sure precisely what to say, Michael simply arched an eyebrow and waited. Lindsay waited quietly at his side. After he paused, Gavin opened with mouth, ready to speak- then his eyes fell to where Michael still gripped Lindsay, and something unreadable stirred in his eyes. He closed his mouth, quirking his head to one side. He shifted his gaze to her, and smiled warmly, but his carefully blank eyes made it seem forced. “Hello, love. Are you his girlfriend?”

Clearly pleased that Gavin had addressed her directly instead of just asking Michael, she beamed up at him, but her smile was just as taut and on edge as his. “No.” She told him. “Just friends.”

The curve of the Gavin’s sudden smile promised things that were possibly illegal and likely immoral but certainly pleasurable- the kind of things you would never regret, no matter what the outcome was. Michael could imagine narcotic kisses and dark words whispered in his ears.

“That’s good.” He murmured, his voice a low and practically suave purr, just as animalistic as his earlier rippling growl, but purely sensual. Ease up, James Bond. “Great, actually.”  
Michael swallowed, and Lindsay had to stifle a snicker. She squeezed his hand one last time before pulling it free. Michael barely noticed. “Well, I better sign us out.” She announced loudly for Gavin’s benefit, still grinning like a madwoman. “I’ll meet you outside on the street, okay?”

Gavin hummed, a soft sound in the darkness. Michael stumbled on his words, but managed a quiet ‘thanks’. The two men waited until she disappeared back into the building, and Gavin sent the blonde woman who was still leaning up against the wall a harsh glare. She flashed him an innocent smile, and they waged a silent war for several long moments. Eventually she huffed, shrugged helplessly at Michael in a ‘what can you do?’ gesture, and followed Lindsay inside.

As soon as the door swung shut behind her, Gavin turned back to him. “Sorry.” He said, a little sheepishly. “I just didn’t really want anyone around. I’m not really good at this.” He reached up, rubbing at the back of his head as he spoke. “I usually have to get pretty pissed to just come up to people, but I’m obviously working, so…”

Michael waited silently for him to get to the point, and Gavin became flustered. Two dots of pink appeared high on his cheeks. “Sorry.” He apologised, his voice a little frantic, quickly losing him composure. “I’ll get to the point. I wanted to apologise for scaring the hell out of you so many times earlier.”

Disappointment was Michael’s knee-jerk reaction, and his shoulders slumped a little. “Is that all you wanted to say?” He asked, narrowing his eyebrows.

“Well… no.” Gavin squirmed where he stood under Michael’s gaze. “I wanna warn you, this is going to sound a bit weird. I totally get it if you say no, but I just wanted to try, ’cause I don’t usually have the balls to do this but I think this might be pretty worth it and I really hope it is because-”

He had begun speaking so quickly, it was difficult to comprehend exactly what he saying. Michael lifted a hand, and immediately Gavin’s jaw almost snapped shut in response. The actor blinked up at him, his eyes huge.

“Slow down and start again. I don’t know what you’re trying to say to me.” Michael demanded, even though he had a fairly good idea of what the man was trying to do.

“Okay.” Gavin sighed out, before clearing his throat and clasping his hands together, almost in a praying motion. “Basically, as soon as you walked into the room I thought you were cute. And if I can be honest, the entire time you were facing away from me I was staring at your arse, okay?” Michael blinked at that, but Gavin raised his hand, indicating that he wasn’t done. “Then, when I scared the crap out of you and you screamed like I’d just stabbed you- that was the best reaction I’d ever gotten from a scare, by the way- and then you just lipped off to your friend and got really angry,” Gavin paused to take a breath, and then he waved his hands in a helpless gesture. “I don’t know, mate. I thought you were really adorable. And pretty damn hot. Then I heard all the swearwords, and I thought you just got cuter. I don’t know if this is going to offend you or anything, but I wanted to say it, so…” He lost his momentum, gradually trailing off into nothing. He shrugged silently.

Michael let it all sink in, and he tried to ignore the way he wanted to grab him and head butt him for being a dork and wanted to tousle his hair for the exact same reason. He was a little mortified- this man saw him scream like a bitch, for god’s sake- but mostly flattered. He hadn’t been approached by someone quite so handsome before, and he respected the man’s bravery. “So you wanted to say you fancied me?” Michael concludes, frowning a little.

“Well, I know we obviously haven’t really met before, and I don’t even know your name, but I was wondering whether you’d like to meet up? Do something together? Or…something, I don’t know.” Gavin was clearly nervous, shifting in the mud, averting his eyes from Michael’s.

Yes, he immediately wanted to say, I would love to meet with you. Despite the fact it irritated him to no end, that goofy little grin was practically flawless, the larger than average nose making his face perfect. The waistline he could imagine cupping in his hands, the mouth he could easily moving against his. The voice, the laugh, even that ridiculously demented little growl he would probably do just to bring back the horrifying and yet amazing memory of meeting him for the first time.

Yes, he wanted to tell him, and he couldn’t believe Gavin was almost too shy to ask.

In the seconds it took to dream all that, getting lost in the kisses and the laughter, it had taken him too long to reply- Gavin had taken a step back and ducked his head.  
“I’m sorry.” He was saying, his voice even but his eyes betraying rejection and stinging pain. “I must have made you uncomfortable, you’re probably straight, I’m a moron.” He waved his hands around, gesturing wildly, his hands flailing. “Sorry. I meant it- like, you’re hot if that’s any help- okay this is probably just digging my own grave here.” He let out an exasperated sigh at himself, mixed with mocking laughter. The man was a mess of conflicting emotions. “I’ll be off. I hope you enjoyed the experience.”

He ducked his head forward once, almost like a half-hearted bow, and he fled, retreating back towards the Hall before Michael could get a word in edgeways.

Oh no you don’t.

“Michael.” He called loudly after him, before he got too far away. Thankfully, he halted, and turned back. His face had crumpled in bafflement.

“What?”

“My name’s Michael.” He explained. “And I’d love to go out with you sometime, provided you don’t scare the shit out of me again.”

It took a long moment to sink in, just like Michael, but when it did, Gavin sprang back into excitable action. His posture straightened significantly, and the smile lit up his handsome face. He pouted childishly. “But that was the best part.”

Michael put his hands on his hips. “I don’t think so, asshole.” He shook his head. “We’re going out to eat and you’re buying. You owe me.” Gavin didn’t argue- he ducked his head and laughed, almost a giggle.

“Perfect.” He danced backwards, back towards Penrose Hall. He was dithering, as if not sure whether he was outstaying his welcome. “Well, uh, if you’re not saying this to placate me, you can get my number from the blonde lady- Barbara- inside.” He explained. “I would stay- I would love to stay, Michael,” His name was said with some kind of emphasis, like Gavin was feeling it instead of simply saying it. “But there’s more people coming, I had to practically get on my knees and beg for the makeup artists to chisel off all that shit on my face.”

“Why didn’t you leave it on?”

Gavin barked out a laugh. “I really doubt you would have agreed to go on a date with me if I looked like death.”

Michael pretended to consider this, before smiling. “True.” His crossed his arms over his chest, feeling the bitter chill wrap it’s cold fingers around him once more. “Well, Gavin. I think you have to be getting back to work.” As much as he appreciated the eye candy that stood in front of him, they both had things to do, people to see. Michael himself had a terror induced sleepless night to have.

“I do.” He agreed. “Although any more screams I get tonight definitely won’t be as satisfying as yours.” Gavin bowed his head, giving the other man a roguish wink. 

“Get going, asshole.” Michael grumbled, considering swatting at him. Gavin looked him up and down before he turned away and ran the entire way back to the Hall, his eyes sparkling, as if he were thinking ‘how the hell have I gotten the attention of a guy like that?’ Michael flushed, and he wondered if Gavin knew he was thinking the exact same thing.

x-x-x-x-x

It was the first of November, well past nine o’clock at night and god, it was fucking freezing cold.

Michael sat perched on a public bench and he drew his coat closer around himself, protecting himself for the heavy wind that had picked up. People sped by him, busy with their lives and wanting to get to their destinations before the weather took a turn for the worst. It had been raining off and on again, the night before Halloween being the only clear night, and it had been threatening to turn again all day. The weathermen had no clue- as usual- and had claimed that it was going to be clear skies tonight.

Please don’t rain, he thinks. Please, please, don’t rain.

Less than half a minute later, a fat droplet of rain falls from the sky and lands directly, determinedly on his forehead. Bulls eye, Michael thinks mirthlessly, and he represses the urge to tear out his hair and scream at the sky. And to murder a weatherman.

He twitches his leg habitually as he waits, turning his head and analysing every side of the street. This was his and Gavin’s meeting point. Apparently, there was a great restaurant not too far away that Gavin frequented. They were supposed to wait fifteen minutes ago, and he had seen hide nor hair of him.

And now it was fucking raining.

It picks up tempo surprisingly fast, becoming a drizzle in less than a minute. Michael swears to himself, grumbling, only retreating further into himself. His beanie protects his hair, but his jeans quickly become damp and his coat isn’t enough to protect him from the bracing cold.

If he didn’t get here soon-

Hands slam down on his shoulders for the fourth time in three days.

Lindsay the queen of mischief had tried the trick a few times, but she never quite had the same effect Gavin had.

He jolts out of his seat, and twisted yelp tears free from the prison of his mouth. He springs out off the bench, and spins, backing away from it. Deep down- well, not that deep- who knows who his attacker is, but he wants to be sure.

He shouldn’t have bothered. Gavin stands there, all tall and lean and a little bit gangly, practically crying from laughter. It’s one of those silent laughs Michael had always hated, the one where no noise apart from a couple of desperate gasps for breath. He sucks in one of those breaths noisily, his face growing red from exertion.

“I hate you so fucking much.” He snapped as Gavin guffawed, attracting bewildered glances from everyone who walked by. “Why the hell did I agree to do this?”

It takes him almost a full thirty seconds, but he eventually recovers, his entire face red down to his neck and wiping tears from his eyes. “Because you love me.” He states, poking his very red, very wet tongue at him. Michael pulls a face at him, his heart rate slowly returning to normal and his fire of his rage dwindling and dying down.

“Yeah, yeah.” He walks around the bench to stand at Gavin’s side. The moron wears no coat. He’s wearing long skinny jeans that show off the miles of his legs, and a form fitting black and grey stripy shirt, emphasising his waist and biceps. In that moment, he loathes and lusts after him more than anything. Michael pokes a vicious finger in his stomach, and Gavin recoils, dropping down and wrapping arms around his stomach. Michael ignores the yelped ‘ow!’ and growls “You’re buying me dessert now.”

He does, and when the night ends, Michael steals one of those narcotic kisses as further payment, and neither complain.


End file.
